Two Figures by a Fountain
by Lady Vignette
Summary: On the hottest day of the summer of 1962, everything changes for Charles and Erik. Moira finds herself involved in their complicated affairs.


**Written for this prompt in the kink meme:**

_Atonement themes: On arriving at Westchester, Moira watches as Charles and Erik become quite close. Though she doesn't begrudge them their friendship, she bristles at their friendly argument which results in Erik ducking Charles in a lake, leaving his clothes clinging to him._

_Later, Moira finds a typewritten note outside Erik's room, having seen it fall from his jacket pocket. It's a note addressed to Charles, explicit in its description of what Erik wants to do to Charles. Moira gives the note to Charles, but he doesn't react to it, asking her to keep the whole thing quiet._

_She does keep quiet, but she also watches Erik around Charles and something between them definitely seems to have changed. One night she spies them in the library where she witnesses them having sex. _

_After the beach, as Charles lies in hospital, she wonders about what really propelled the bullet and the irony of Charles losing the feeling below his waist._

* * *

><p>Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr sit side by side, teeth chattering despite the wool blankets wrapped tightly around the both of them. Charles' hand rests upon the small of the other's narrow back and he seems to be pattering mindlessly, a look of sheer joy upon his features. Erik's head is bowed, facing his knee, but seemingly listening intently to his companion.<p>

The young professor's penchant for taking in strays amuses Moira, especially in this moment. He's only plucked the stranger out of the water mere moments ago, yet he's extraordinarily comfortable with him.

Moira folds her arms over her chest, trying not to look too long at the mutant duo before her as they ride the boat back to the shore.

Moira is genuinely surprised when she sees Charles and Erik walk out of the CIA compound together on the morning of the third day, Charles chatting and Erik bowing his head to listen to every word that came from the other's mouth, nodding and occasionally replying with something brief and concise. She'd expected to have run off to complete his mission in killing Sebastian Shaw, but he seems to have no intention of leaving anytime soon.

"We'll be gone for a week, at longest," Charles announces once breakfast is over, Erik quiet by Charles' side. "We're starting something fantastic. Thanks to Hank's invention, of course."

Hank blushes slightly and adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. The professor smiles, picks his suitcase from the ground by its handle, and turns to face the taller man.

"Do you have everything you need, my friend?" Charles questions, arching a brow inquisitively. Erik nods.

"Yes."

Erik follows Charles out of the front door, clutching his small, orange briefcase in his hand tightly. Moira watches them walk, side-by-side, to the car parked in the street, engaged in conversation as usual.

A smile tugs at the corners of Moira's lips.

111111

After Shaw's attack on the base which the mutants had inhabited, Charles moved the group to his vast palace-like home, where they'd already begun their training. The mutants had, at least, but Charles insisted Moira stay. So she did.

It's, quite possibly, the hottest day of the summer. Humidity makes the air heavy, the sun's furiously blazing down upon them, and the ground is hot beneath one's feet even with shoes on. The children are inside of the mansion, partaking in miscellaneous activities, while Erik and Charles sit on the edges of the fountain that's in the center of the circular driveway located in front of Xavier Manor.

Charles tugs miserably at the damp, unbuttoned collar of his light blue shirt. His cuffs have been rolled up to his elbows and he wears a pair of cotton trousers. He wishes he had outfits more adequately suited for such insufferable heat, but he will endure it for now.

Erik's wearing a polo shirt and a pair of slacks. The man seems to have a very scarce wardrobe, consisting of various turtlenecks, a few pairs of trousers, a white polo, and a few tailored suits. It's because of his nomadic nature that he owns so few possessions, Charles assumes, but he still can't imagine surviving off of such few belongings.

Erik raises a hand to move a metallic bishop on the chessboard between them forward, claiming one of Charles' knights.

"Check," Erik says smugly. Charles arches a brow inquisitively, a smirk toying at his lips.

"I don't think so, my friend," he teases as he moves a pawn forward, ultimately landing Erik in a checkmate position. Erik frowns as Charles lets out a chuckle, grinning widely now. After the metal-kine makes no attempt to help clean up the board, Charles begins to do so himself, pushing all of the pieces into the jar in which they belong. Once he's finished, he puts the jar aside to adjust his shoe-laces, back facing Erik.

Smiling mischieviously, Erik flicks his wrist upward and the jar of chess pieces go sinking into the water with a loud splash. Charles immediately turns, hands clutching the ledge of the fountain as he watches the dark jar impact with the ground. He turns to face Erik, who is displaying all of his teeth in an amused grin.

"Bloody hell," he grumbles, half playful and half serious. Without a thought, he dives rather ungracefully into the fountain. Erik jumps off of his spot on the ledge, trying to avoid the splash that Charles' dive leaves behind.

Mentally cursing Erik, Charles traces his fingers along the concrete ground blindly, searching for the jar of chess pieces that Erik had tossed carelessly into the fountain. When his fingertips caress something smooth, he grips the object firmly with his hand before emerging from the waist-deep water and climbing onto the ledge.

111111

Erik tries to keep a safe distance away from the fountain, but can't help but look over a few times to make sure his friend is alright. He's been under the water for at least a minute, and that will make one worry. The metal manipulator definitely did not have this outcome in mind when he used his mutation to drop the jar of chess pieces into the fountain.

Finally, Charles emerges from the water and climbs onto the ledge to stand at his full height. Erik finds himself hopelessly gazing up at Charles, scanning his eyes over the smaller figure of the other.

The outfit the telepath is wearing clings tightly to his sun-kissed skin due to the water that drips off of him, and a light, ruddy blush heats up his cheeks. Licking his dry, cracked lips, he drinks in the sight, feeling something foreign and unusual unravel in his breast.

It takes him a few moments to realize Charles is staring back at him, wide-eyed. Erik is sure if tension is tangible, that they're drowning helplessly in it. Finally, he seems to be able to avert his gaze from the telepath and he hears water drip further away as Charles nearly darts off in the opposite direction, leaving the taller man with his hands balled into tight fists and looking after Charles.

As Charles storms in the direction of the mansion, he pays no heed to Moira, who is standing in the green garden hedges.

111111

Moira, at first, isn't sure what's occurring between the two elder mutants when she watches Charles dive into the fountain from the safety of the manicured foliage that decorates the lawn. When she sees Charles emerge, soaked to his skin, she notices the expression on Erik's face dramatically change. It goes from that worried poker-face to something that resembles awe and perhaps even lust.

It does not take Moira long to realize that the two are sharing a moment of sexual tension, and she suddenly feels as though she's intruding upon something as intimate and personal as actual love-making. As the agent turns to leave, she hears footsteps approach her and realizes it's Charles, walking hastily away from the fountain hastily.

She decides to follow a safe distance behind the professor, but not before glancing back at Erik, who's sitting on the ledge with his palm outstretched atop of the place where Charles emerged, barely allowing the green-tined water to graze his skin.

111111

The amber glow of dusk peeks through the thin curtains of Erik Lehnsherr's room as he reclines on his desk chair languidly, lost in thought. The incident between himself and Charles by the fountain has not left his mind; the scene seemingly repeating itself over and over like a broken record.

He saw the mildly toned muscles of Charles' abdomen as his soaked shirt clung to it, and he makes himself see it again. He remembers the way a single drop of water descended down Charles' clavicle and those dark trousers that clung to his narrow waist and the taut-looking globes of his rear end as he darted away.

After a moment of thought, Erik sits up and pushes his chair toward his desk, where he rests his fingertips upon the buttons of his typewriter. His fingers seem to have a mind of their own as they begin to type.

_Dear Charles,_

_In my dreams, I fuck you all day and all night. I make you scream my name as you come in my hands and I milk your erect cock for all its worth._

_Sincerely,_  
><em>Erik<em>

Ripping the off-white piece of parchment off of the typewriter, he scans over it briefly and bursts into a cynical chuckle. He must remind himself that he's not here to frolick around with the professor. He's here because he needs to find Shaw to avenge his mother. For all of his life, there has been nothing beyond the venomous hatred that's coursed through his veins, and he's not about to change that now. Or is he?

Being close to someone gives him a weakness. Erik cannot be feeble. He can't afford to be.

So, he folds the letter up in his pocket and leaves the room to take a walk. The night air is slightly chilly.

He doesn't notice when the letter falls from his pocket, but Moira does.

111111

Moira is walking down the hallway, on her way to the bathroom, when she sees the folded up note on the ground. Curiosity gets the better of her when she bends down to pick it up and unfold it. When she reads the content of the note, she has the feeling she's invading upon something that should be between the two. It's that feeling of not belonging once more.

After a moment of contemplation, she decides she'll show the note to Charles. Perhaps that is what Erik intended to do, as she imagines the note falling from his pocket.

Standing at her full height, she tucks the note in her pants pocket to begin her journey to Charles' study, which is located on the opposite wing of the vast mansion. There's no doubt in Moira's mind that the professor is reading, studying, or doing whatever he does for the entireity of the night there. He claims it's because the sleeping minds of the mansion keep him awake, and it makes Moira wonder when he does actually sleep.

Reaching a hand to knock, she hears Charles' muffled voice call to her through the door before her knuckles impact the wood. "Come in, love."

Stepping inside, she closes the mahogany door behind her and faces the telepath, who is lounging behind a pile of paperwork and books with his legs crossed on his desk.

"I think I have something you'd want to see, Charles," Moira says as she takes the crumbled piece of paper out of her pocket. Charles stands at his full height and strides over her to take the folded note from her hands. When he reads it, she notices his facial expression changes from that usual smug look to something that resembles a poker-face.

"Moira," he says as he tucks the piece of paper in his trouser pockets, "I would appreciate you not letting Erik or anyone else know of my reading this." His face morphs back into that maternal, kind look he gives his students. Moira nods, and Charles places a hand on her shoulder.

"Darling, I'm afraid I have a mountain of paperwork to complete. I'm afraid I'll need to get to that now. However, if there's anything you might need, my door will always be open," Charles smiles.

"I'll be taking me leave now, Charles. But thank you."

"No. Thank you." Charles replies, flashing the agent a charming smile before she leaves the room.

111111

For the next few days, Moira observes Erik and Charles' awkward interactions. They are no longer attached at each other's hip, save for the times when they absolutely need to be for the sake of training. She can't help but feel as though some of this is her fault.

However, life in the mansion moves on. They are increasingly more and more prepared for any sort of spontaneous attack Shaw might cast upon the United States with each day. Everyone-even Charles-seems to be getting more antsy as the days go on as well.

Moira finds herself hoping that Erik and Charles will unite once more.

111111

The night that they decide to relax from training is the night that Raven decides she wants to throw some sort of celebration for their achievement thus far. It involves dressing in a ridiculously formal manner, dancing, and plenty of other fun activities in the Xavier ballroom.

The men are dressed in well-tailored suits and the few females there are clad in exquisite dresses. Charles doesn't see the point in wearing such formal clothing for such a small occasion, but Raven had insisted.

Fred Astaire's "Puttin' on the Ritz" is playing on the record player loudly and the children seem to be having a fantastic time dancing and chattering idly with one another. It makes him smile to see them enjoying themselves after working so hard, and he presses his wine glass against his lips to take a dainty sip of the maroon-colored liquid.

But, as pleasant as it was to see such a chaste sight, the thought of the incident by the fountain and Erik's note that was never supposed to be in his hands still knaws relentlessly at his conscience. He's been trying to think about how to respond to everything, and Erik seems to have been drifitng away from him, much to his dismay.

When Charles glances up at the dancefloor, he sees Erik on the opposite side, apparently having been gazing at him before quickly averting his eyes before Charles looked up. Sighing, Charles glanced pointedly at Erik before leaving the dancefloor, eventually hearing following footsteps behind him.

111111

The closest room to the ballroom is the library, located down the hall. When Charles steps into the library, he moves quickly toward the bookcase, his back facing Erik as Erik closes the door behind him.

Silence falls between the two. It's the same tension that occurred by the fountain. It makes Erik uneasy.

"I read your note," Charles murmurs quietly, almost too soft for Erik to hear. But Erik hears it, and feels something heat up his face.

"You weren't supposed to," Erik manages to reply. Charles turns to face his friend, forcing himself to gaze only at his face and not the well-fitted suit that he wore. Meanwhile, Erik looks at the collar of Charles' shirt, which he's undone one button but quickly flicks his eyes back to Charles' face, trying not to wonder what his lips taste like.

"It was rather direct," Charles admits, "but why not show it to me?"

Erik blinks, and remembers that Charles is one ballsy bastard of a man. "Because you don't return the feeling."

The other's response makes Charles chuckle and Erik frowns slightly. _If he thinks this is funny, I can leave. I can go pack up my stuff and find Shaw myself. I don't need any-_

"You wouldn't know unless you asked, my friend."

Erik arches a brow inquisitively then something hits him. All of the fleeting touches over chess games, what seemed like Charles flirting but Erik brushed off as drunken comments on their recruiting trip, and so many more things come to mind. Erik stares, wide-eyed at Charles.

"You knew... you knew before I did," Erik nearly chokes out.

A beat.

"I knew exactly." Charles says with a nod. With that, Erik moves forward the few steps between them to claim Charles' lips with his own, kissing him almost chastely. Charles jumps momentarily in shock before moving his hands to rest upon Erik's taut, muscular shoulders, inviting the man closer. Opening his lips, he coaxes Erik's tongue in his mouth and forces himself to memorize the flavor of Erik. He tastes like salt and jelly and something simply irresistible that Charles is sure he'll never get enough of.

Both of them mutually withdraw from each other to glance into each other's eyes, a fine strand of saliva lingering between their mouths. Both men are panting as if they've run a mile, seemingly lost in each other's stare. They're helplessly trapped in this moment outside of time, not dead or living. But hanging, just barely, by a thread.

It's not until Charles licks his lips that something stirs inside of Erik and makes him lean in to kiss Charles lasciviously, hands quickly descending the telepath's lean frame to cup at the firm, taut globes of his buttocks. Charles is quickly pressed into the bookcase behind him and his legs are coaxed apart to allow Erik more space.

When Erik ruts his groin roughly against his budding erection, Charles lets out a whine into the other's mouth, already lost in this state of bliss and Erik hasn't even _done_anything yet. Erik's lithe fingers descend Charles' front to hastily work at his bow-tie, determined to get it unknotted so he could taste the tempting skin that he's found himself desiring time and time again.

Upon finally undoing the professor's bloody bow-tie, Erik quickly unbuttons the top few buttons of his collar to begin ravenously feasting upon that milky flesh with bruising kisses. Letting out a low groan, he moves his hands from their vice-grip upon the bookcase beside him to palm at Erik's groin, almost intimidated by the way it throbs through the fabric before cupping the bulge with more confidence.

"Fick," Erik mutters huskily, and the usage of his native tongue sends a shot of arousal down Charles' spine and straight to his cock.

Before the telepath knows it, his belt buckle is being undone and forcefully yanking Charles' trousers downward, all with the metal-kine's divine mutation. The professor has not known the true effects that Erik's display of power has on him until _now_, when he can hardly breathe and ponders about all of the beauty and catastrophe those hands are capable of. What _Erik_ is capable of.

The mere thought sends shivers down his spine as he leans up to kiss at Erik's neck, feeling Erik's hands move to his cotton briefs to yank them down, leaving them pooling at his ankles. Charles would've felt exposed any other time, but the way Erik fleetingly strokes his weeping member makes him cant his hips forward into the tight warmth of the other's fists, craving more of that delicious sensation on his cock.

Erik suddenly withdraws his hand and Charles lets out an absolutely _humiliating_whine for the other to return to his ministrations. Something metal flies from the ajar window and into Erik's outstretched palm, and Charles barely has time to even question what it is before Erik is coating his fingers with Vaseline and parting his legs to make room for his slender hand.

The professor has experienced with things such as this during his Oxford days, but nothing compares to now, when Erik rubs his moist fingers against his puckered entrance.

"_Oh_," Charles barely manages to utter as Erik's finger slips inside, not gentle by any means. It takes Charles by surprise when Erik manages to slip two more digits inside of him so quickly. It stings and is anything besides pleasurable, except when he arches his fingers upward and hits something that sets every nerve ending in his body aflame. Erik continues to touch the spot once he sees the reaction it makes but withdraws before Charles can reach his awaited climax.

Erik's belt and fly is quickly undone with the aid of his mutation. Quickly, he dips his fingers in the can of Vaseline that floats in the air to lather it over his exposed erection, grunting softly at the friction against his cock, but he doesn't allow his hand to stay for long.

He moves his fingers to wrap around Charles' ass, breathing heavily, and lifts him up to lower him down onto his cock.

Charles grips the ladder beside him and arches his head against the shelves, overwhelmed with the feeling of being filled, ripped apart, and everything else that came with it. He glances down at Erik, who looks up at him with an awestruck stare, gray eyes widened and glistening with moisture.

"Charles," he whispers huskily, unable to look away.

"Erik."

A beat.

"I love you." The confession oozes worship, pain, sorrow, happiness, and a myriad of confusing emotions that Erik has never felt before. But he's sure if he opens his heart up to Charles that Charles won't break it.

"I love you."

When Charles and Erik mutually lean in to connect lips, Erik lets out something that resembles a choked sob. Charles lets out that whine once more, horrified at the harsh reality that weighed upon their shoulders: Erik is going to kill Shaw. Erik is going to leave Charles, and Charles knows it. Not because Erik doesn't love him; no. It's because his beliefs are as passionate. He's seen Erik speak of them.

So he will make this last.

Moving his body upward until only Erik's bulbous prick remains inside of him, Charles forces his body down, groans that would be screams muffled by Erik's mouth, hot and longing on his. This continues for a few moments before Erik brushes against that spot once more, causing a shudder to rip through his body. Realizing this change immediately, Erik begins to stroke his cock, milking him as promised in that letter that had Charles jerking off in the shower the following morning…

Deciding that he does not want to experience his climax without Erik, he hesitates for a moment before he creates a mental connection between himself and Erik, making Erik's pleasure his pleasure and his own pleasure Erik's. Immediately, this is enough to send both of them over the edge and they cry in each other's mouths as they come almost at the same time.

Rhapsody bleeds into the room and white-hot pleasure overwhelms him as he feels himself convulse against the bookcase, lost in himself and Erik's minds. Finally, when his orgasm is complete and when he's finally spent, he slumps over Erik's shoulder, grateful for the strong, lithe body bracing his own.

They do not move for at least a minute before Charles strokes at the hair on the nape of Erik's neck.

"Come, love," he says, not failing to notice the slight cringe Erik makes as he lets the honeyed endearment escape him, "we should go back."

Quiet, Erik eases Charles back to his feet. The two dress separately, gathering discarded clothing from around the room and adjusting themselves accordingly.

As Charles is prepared to leave the library to return to the ballroom, Erik yanks him by the arm to reel him in close, letting out a small, weak cry into Charles' shoulder. Charles hushes him and holds him close, fingers entangling themselves soothingly into the auburn hair.

This is when Moira MacTaggart is able to avert her eyes away from them and leave.

111111

Moira leaves the ball-room out of boredom, not wanting to be around for Sean's foolish attempts at courting her (although they were cute and sweet, she was a woman and he was still a child), and decides to leave to the bathroom, left to her devices.

This ultimately leads to wandering the mansion. It is a large and vast place and it's nearly impossible to scour all of the rooms. She doubts she'll be able to do so during the duration of her stay either, but it's still fascinating to look at.

Something draws her to a specific door, which is open just slightly. When she peeps inside, she is not expecting to see Charles Xavier pressed against a wall of books by Erik Lehnsherr, clutching almost desperately onto a ladder. Eyes widening, she finds herself unable to avert her gaze.

"I love you," Erik whispers.

"I love you."

It's all Moira can do not to fall back from shock. Really, she's been expecting this, but she does not have a proper reaction for this moment. Watching them continue, she feels some sort of emotion overwhelm her, and she has to contemplate what it is until she feels it.

Pride. Pride that Charles and Erik have both finally found happiness, even if homosexuality is not of popular sovereignty. She's only known them for a few months but they are as good as family, and it's hurt her to see them suffer and linger upon each other for so long.

When Erik begins to break down in Charles' arms, Moira walks away, almost swelling with happiness. Maybe this is what Charles feels when the students accomplish something.

111111

It's been months since the incident on the beach, but Charles is still in bed-rest. Moira and the remaining mutants who have not joined Erik's—_Magneto's,_she must correct herself—Brotherhood have not left Charles' side in his long and painful recovery. Recently, Charles has decided he wants to run a school for mutants with his mansion and perhaps even create a team to establish peaceful cohabitation between mutant-kind and humanity.

Moira knows that Charles is trying to drown himself in his ideals and work so he can ignore the open wounds of Erik and Raven. However, no one dares to question the professor about it, as he seems perfectly fine. But inside, inside she knows Charles is broken.

But Charles has decided he cannot be weak.

Walking down the hallway to Charles' bedroom with a tray of tea in hand, Moira hears the click-clack of her pumps against the waxed floor as she moves toward Charles' door. The professor has already warned he's going for a catnap of sorts, but she decides she'll leave the tea there for when he awakens, which should be soon.

Trying to be quiet, Moira opens the door and is nearly paralyzed when she is faced with what is on the bed.

Erik, without that helmet or without that menacing, murderous look upon his features, has his cape and arms wrapped around Charles, who is tucked in close to his chest. They appear to be at peace and happy, but if one looks closely they will see the dried trails of tears left upon their cheeks.

The agent blinks and decides to leave, before meddling herself in their complex, complicated affairs once more.

The last thing she sees before leaving the room is Erik's magenta helmet resting upon Charles' wheelchair.


End file.
